


Braver Five Minutes More

by eringiles



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Martin Crieff Whump, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6319315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eringiles/pseuds/eringiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Why the bloody hell had Carolyn given Douglas the afternoon off to go to his daughter’s birthday party? Why wasn’t he sat beside Martin, able to take over control of GERTI, while Martin quietly wept in the corner?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Braver Five Minutes More

Martin glanced down at the altimeters for the second time in as many minutes when he felt the horizon tipping slightly, but he knew by now that it was him and not the plane that was tilting. He tried to squint through one eye and then the other, desperate to rectify the problem, but it didn’t help. His left eye was now watering as he blinked rapidly and it dawned on him with sudden dread. Migraine. He glanced down at his watch, and realised with horror that he couldn’t quite see the second hand, or the numbers three and four. That was when the panic set in.

Martin knew that he had at least ten minutes left where he could still see well enough to land the plane. The unfortunate thing was that even though he had started his descent it would be at least another twenty minutes before they landed at Fitton. Small mercies that Martin didn’t have to divert and incur the wrath of Carolyn too. 

Martin turned the seatbelt sign on in preparation. His skin was prickling all down his back and he could feel himself breaking out into a cold sweat. He couldn’t do this. Why the bloody hell had Carolyn given Douglas the afternoon off to go to his daughter’s birthday party? Why wasn’t he sat beside Martin, able to take over control of GERTI, while Martin quietly wept in the corner?

The sun flashed into view and Martin recoiled just as ATC came over the crackling intercom.

‘Fitton ATC to Golf Tango India.’

Martin swallowed, trying to steady himself before answering. ‘Go ahead ATC.’

‘Hello Martin. How was your trip to the wilds of Scotland?’

‘Fine.’ A pause, where Martin tried to remember anything anecdotal worth mentioning about the trip, but he couldn’t think of anything beyond the prospect of the next twenty minutes looming endlessly before him. ‘Was there anything else, Carl?’

‘Just calling to advise you you’re clear to land on runway one and let you know the wicked witch of the west is blowing at fifty knots.’

‘What?’ Martin asked, confused. The horizon was titling again, but he was sure that was the plane as much as it was him as he turned back towards the runway at Fitton. Pressure was starting to build behind his eyes and he was having trouble concentrating.

‘Wind, Martin. Blowing in from the west at 50 knots. Everything alright up there?’

‘Fine, thanks, Carl.’ Martin managed to turn off ATC without too much trouble, but he could feel his hands shaking as he put them both back on the yoke and gripped it as tight as he could summon the strength to. He felt like the sun was burning a hole through his retinas now as he struggled to concentrate on flying. This wasn’t just his life on the line, but that of poor Arthur sat back in the cabin on his own, merrily counting out the little packets of sugar he’d been collecting from various grotty hotels over the years. And then there was GERTI, shuddering under his own shaking limbs as he ploughed on through the cloud line, grateful to see that it was raining and miserable in Fitton. If he crashed poor GERTI it would not just be the end of his life, and possibly Arthur’s, but Carolyn would lose her business and Douglas his job.

His right eye started watering too, not just the light affecting it but the horrible realisation that he could barely see anything out of his left eye now, all depth perception gone. He was both simultaneously terrified of crashing GERTI, being the person that ended the lives of everyone he worked with and also struggling to focus as the debilitating pain started to hit. It was awful. It flung him back to the last migraine he’d had. 

His father had still been alive and he’d been visiting his parents for the weekend. They’d been in the middle of Sunday dinner when he’d dropped the gravy boat, sending tidal waves of gravy over Catlin’s roast beef dinner as he realised he couldn’t see out of his left eye properly. Flashes of lights had started to obscure his vision as he tried to mop the gravy up with his napkin while Catlin called him clumsy.

He’d stated in tones, that he thought to be very calm given the extreme panic he was feeling, that he couldn’t see properly out his left eye. His mum had started freaking out, Catlin had told him to stop being so dramatic and Simon had tried to fix the whole situation with his usual blunder and false bravado. It has been Martin’s father who had dealt with the situation with calm efficiency, knowing exactly what was happening to his youngest son. As the migraine hit he’d told Martin to go lie down in his old room, bringing Martin a wet face cloth, which he placed over Martin’s eyes. He’d then closed not only the curtains in Martin’s room, but in the corridor outside so that when people came to check on him no light disturbed Martin, whom was trying to curl in on himself. He remembered his dad driving him home much later in the evening, telling Martin that he’d suffered from them when he was younger too.

Now though there wasn’t anyone here to put Martin to bed and make sure he was okay. He was on his own in the cockpit as he tried to keep his concentration going enough to land GERTI. Every single thing on his mental checklist was like a heroic achievement in Martin’s eyes right now. He was sure some things were done out of order, but at least they got done. He closed his eyes for a fraction too long and the plane dipped a bit two quickly, jerking him back to reality. He thought for a moment he was going to throw up all over the controls and the world spun helplessly around him.

He couldn’t do this. He just couldn’t do this.

He could see Fitton airfield looming before him, but it was too far away and the runway lights were dancing from side to side making it almost impossible to fly straight. He was going to crash GERTI. He was going to be found covered in his own vomit, unconscious. He could hear ATC calling him but he couldn’t deal with more than one thing at the moment. And he could barely deal with that.

He couldn’t do it.

***

Douglas arrived at Fitton airfield after his daughter’s birthday party expecting to pick a tired Martin up and take him back to his place for a home cooked meal, followed by some very intense sitting on a sofa and watching of a film. Yet, as he pulled into the airfield car park he witnessed one of Martin’s less than graceful landings followed by some rather jerky taxiing to stand. It was rare now to see Martin land the plane so jerkily; for all Douglas teased him Martin had now become a remarkably competent pilot.

Douglas walked along the fence towards MJN’s portakabin, expecting Martin to emerge from the plane and to wait impatiently for the meticulous pilot to file his paperwork. Before he even reached the portakabin however, Carolyn emerged, slamming the door behind her as she took off across the tarmac towards the plane, oblivious to Douglas, just as a rather worried looking Arthur opened the hatch. Douglas made a sharp turn and started heading towards the plane. He had a foot on the bottom of the steps when he heard Carolyn suggesting that Arthur call Douglas.

‘Speak his name and he appears unto you,’ Douglas said by way of announcing his arrival. The sight that greeted him was Martin hunched over himself in the pilot’s seat, a rather full looking sick bag on the floor next to him. From where Douglas was stood he could see the back of Martin’s neck was beaded in sweat and his hands were shaking.

‘Oh good, Douglas.’ Carolyn looked relieved. 

‘Martin?’ Douglas manoeuvred himself past Carolyn to put a hand on Martin’s shoulder.

‘Migraine. Aura.’ Martin managed in barely more than a whisper, not moving an inch. Douglas frowned in sympathy.

‘And you landed the plane?’ Carolyn exclaimed from behind Douglas. Douglas was impressed too. He could barely do anything with a normal headache. He couldn’t imagine landing a plane with visual disturbances.

‘No choice,’ Martin said as he sagged even further forward in his chair. From his vantage point Douglas could see there were tears streaming down Martin’s face even though his eyes were closed. Douglas put an arm round Martin and levered him out of the pilot’s chair.

‘Let’s get you some painkillers and somewhere dark.’

Martin didn’t react. He just managed to cling onto the front of Douglas’ jacket as he tried to keep his balance while Douglas walked them out of the plane and onto the tarmac. Martin was already turning his head into Douglas’ shoulder, away from the light, and Douglas, without thinking, brought up a hand to cover Martin’s eyes. Martin relaxed infinitesimally.

‘Douglas?’ Carolyn called from the top steps of GERTI.

‘I’ll give you a call,’ Douglas said softly as he kept walking back across the tarmac towards his car. Carolyn nodded and disappeared back inside the cabin. Arthur appeared as Douglas was settling Martin into the passenger seat of the car, Martin’s flight bag in his hands as he fidgeted nervously.

‘I didn’t even know anything was wrong,’ Arthur said quietly as Douglas shut the door softly on Martin.

‘Don’t worry, Arthur.’ Douglas clapped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder in reassurance as he took the bag from him and moved round to the drivers’ side.

‘Douglas?’ Arthur called across the roof of the car. Douglas looked up from where he was putting Martin’s bag behind his seat.

‘He’ll be fine, Arthur. I’ll give you both a call later.’ Douglas gave a small smile in reassurance, but Arthur missed it as he was looking down in through the passenger window at Martin who was slumped in the seat, his eyes closed and covered with a shaking hand.

‘Say if you’re going to be sick.’ Douglas said to Martin as he pulled his seatbelt on.

Martin didn’t say a word on the drive back to Douglas’ house. He remained as still as he could in the passenger’s seat, his lips set in a thin line, his cheeks still damp with fresh tears. Douglas tried to drive as smoothly as he could, but he couldn’t help wincing when he drove over a pothole and the car shoogled.

‘Stop.’ Martin uttered when they were barely a street away. Douglas pulled over as quickly as he could and reached across Martin to open the door as he fumbled blindly with the handle. Martin just hung out of the car, steadying himself on the door as he dry heaved into the gutter. Douglas could do nothing but rub reassuringly at his back and wait. Eventually Martin stopped dry heaving, but then he had to suffer the indignity of Douglas getting out the car and coming round to Martin’s side to almost lift him back into the car as his arms were shaking so badly he could barely hold himself up anymore.

The trip up the driveway and consecutively up the stairs was almost just as bad. By the time they made it to the bedroom Martin was crying again, silent tears running down his face that he couldn’t possibly hope to contain.

Douglas carefully unbuttoned Martin’s shirt as he stood beside the bed. He was swaying on his feet and Douglas had to make a grab for him as he tilted towards the bedside cabinet. Douglas carefully lowered Martin onto the edge of the bed before finishing removing his shirt. Martin started lowering himself into a foetal position on the bed then, clearly the need to be lying down overwhelming him. Douglas finished removing Martin’s uniform as best he could, leaving him in just his undershirt and boxers. The rain was pattering gently against the window, but that sound was clearly too much for Martin’s senses because he tried to burrow his head between two pillows as Douglas went over to the window, pulling down the blinds and shutting the curtains, dropping the room into near darkness.

He retrieved water and ibuprofen which he forced Martin to take before going into the en suite, careful not to turn the light on and rinsed a facecloth out in the sink.

As Douglas placed the wet cloth over Martin’s eyes he noticed the dark circles already formed there and frowned. He sat down on the bed by Martin’s hip, aware of the flinch from Martin.

‘Where does it hurt?’ Douglas hummed, trying to keep his voice to a soft baritone. Martin didn’t say anything, just raised a shuddering hand to point at first his right and then his left temple. Martin didn’t seem to have the energy even to move his hand back down to the side of his body so left it draped over his left shoulder. Douglas moved it for him, kissing the knuckles before laying the hand back on top of the sheets by Martin’s hip. His own hands then moved back up to Martin’s temple and started applying pressure in concentric circles to Martin’s temples with the pads of his fingertips. Neither said anything, but Douglas kept going until his hands cramped and Martin’s shoulders weren’t quite so hunched up around his ears. 

Douglas stayed perched on the bed until he was sure Martin was asleep before easing himself to his feet. He bent to lightly kiss Martin’s hair. His stomach reminded him of the steaks he had bought in especially for he and Martin that evening as he descended the stairs, but he decided they would keep until tomorrow. Opting instead to reheat yesterday’s spaghetti bolognaise and eat it alone in the living room with a repeat of QI turned down low. 

He was still trying to fathom how poor Martin had managed to land a plane in the midst of such debilitating pain. Douglas didn’t even know that Martin suffered with migraines, but he knew the symptoms and he’d read enough medical journals on it’s effects on patients while he’d been a medical student to know that they were not pleasant.

There was a thump from upstairs a couple of hours later, which distracted Douglas from that day’s paper. He padded up the stairs to find Martin gone from the bed, but the bathroom door was slightly ajar, still in utter darkness. A moment later Douglas heard the sink running and then finally Martin emerged, shuffling like some newly born zombie back towards the bed. He put a hand on Douglas shoulder as he shuffled past, allowing Douglas the brief moment to see Martin’s shadowed features still haunted by pain.

‘How you feeling?’

‘Bit better,’ Martin murmured as he slid beneath the covers. ‘Time is it?’

‘Almost eleven.’ Douglas stood a moment longer as he watched Martin turning his face back into a pillow. Douglas dithered for a moment before going back downstairs to switch off lights and check the front door before he climbed the stairs back to his bedroom, stripping off in the dark before he slid into bed beside Martin, expecting him to be asleep again.

The quietly spoken voice took him somewhat by surprise. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re always welcome, Martin.’ Douglas paused as he turned over to look at Martin in the half-light. ‘It mustn’t have been fun landing that plane on your own today?’

Martin didn’t open his eyes, his dry lips sticking together as he let out a breathy, ‘No.’

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there.’

‘You’re here now.’ A clumsy hand flopped on the bed just by Douglas’ chest before it made another attempt to reach him, trailing up his bare arm to caress his stubbly cheek. He shifted forward so he could feel the warmth of Martin’s breath curling over his face before moving those last few inches to press his lips against Martin’s.

‘Yes,’ Douglas said against Martin’s lips, pulling back slightly so he could see that Martin’s bloodshot and hooded eyes were open for a moment, still pain-filled and exhausted but happy. ‘Yes.’ Douglas repeated, smiling as he kissed Martin’s forehead. He shifted back in the bed, but Martin followed him, burying his head in the crook of Douglas’ shoulder as his eyes drifted shut again.


End file.
